The
unmarked black needlejet, flanked by a pair of identical escorts,
screeched in low over the central research facility of the University
faction. The lead jet banked as it flew above the largely unadorned
towers of the famed Human Genome Research Center, one of many tall
structures in the city. The AAA guns of the perimeter defense systems
tracked the needlejet flawlessly, but the computer-controlled barrels
remained quiet. The lead jet was transmitting one of University's
highest-level diplomatic codes. The research assistants manning the
sensor decks watched their screens intently, their fingers near the
manual overrides. All the codes checked out, and the visiting jets-
whoever they were- did not deviate from the accepted flight corridor.

The
jets switched to V/STOL mode, and came to rest on the Academy pad,
where a small contingent from the University Protocol Office was
already waiting. Even before the aircraft powered down, the passenger
compartment hatches came down, and from each visiting jet emerged a
squad of silent, black-clad warrior-monks. One squad fanned out to
either side of the pad area, while the third formed up at attention
before the ramp of the lead jet. The local delegation came forward.

The
commander of the University garrison saluted the leader of the honor
guard, while the visiting ambassador looked up at the little
spherical vidcam that hovered nearby. "The Chairman of the Human
Hive, Sheng-ji Yang," he announced into the camera.

The
Chairman scowled at the offending camera but said nothing as the
University team led them inside.

The
half-darkened conference room was empty, except for the two faction
leaders and their most-trusted assistants. Protocol allowed as many
as three apiece, but Yang had ignored these and had brought only one-
his protégé and consort, Wangmu. She was a silent,
monklike woman in black robes.

Academician
Zarkhov, now aware of his ally's austere predilections, also
brought only one assistant- his Dean of Research Sciences, Doctor
Valen Filoh. Filoh was perhaps the most intelligent person on Planet,
save only Zarkhov himself. And though he looked much older than
Zarkhov, Filoh was in reality quite a bit younger. He'd been one of
the first children born on Chiron in the early days. Filoh had been
instrumental in the Human Genome work- the first secret project
completed by the University- and had certainly benefited physically
(as well as financially) from his own experiments. The Dean had also
proven not only his own intelligence but also his loyalty by giving
most of the credit for the genome project to Zakharov. Hopefully, any
sore feelings on the part of his rivals had long been forgotten. Some
of Filoh's associates had been quite instrumental in that early
research, but, sadly, few enough were still mentally viable. None of
that mattered, though, because the subsequent generation was even
more intellectually talented- thanks to the likes of Dr. Filoh, and
Zakharov's other loyal Emeritii.

Both
Wangmu and Filoh had been thoroughly screened and cleared.

"Welcome
to Central Research," Zakharov said, indicating a seat for the
Chairman. The huge conference table was old, but exquisitely
polished. On it was an expensive crystal chalice, containing the
finest vodka on Chiron. The Academician, never much on formalities,
poured two glasses.

"I
noticed you recorded my arrival," the Chairman said, taking a seat
but declining a drink. "Your secrets have a way of getting out."

The
Academician was not particularly phased by his visitor's brusque
manner. "Not to worry. We have developed a new Hunter-Seeker
Algorithm. I'll have to show it to you sometime. It's already
netted me a Morgan operative."

"Morgan,"
Yang sputtered. His host knew perfectly well how he felt about the
CEO of Morgan Industries. "I've come to discuss strategy,
Zakharov, Something I never like to do over commlink, encrypted or
no."

Zakharov
nodded, and, tapping the surface of the table, called up the latest
map of Chiron's surface, showing in general terms the territories
of the seven major factions- The University, The Hive, Morgan
Industries and it's ally the Peacekeepers, plus the Believers, the
Spartans and the Gaians.

Yang
looked down at the map. "The Believers are spreading across the
southern continent, I see. For the most part, unhindered." Yang did
not mention that he'd recently learned a tiny fraction of his
drones had been discovered there, as refugees. "There's an ocean
between us and them, with nothing in it but fungus and some
semi-mythical pirates."

"As
much as I despise Miriam and her fanatics," Zakharov said, "we
have little to fear from her any time soon."

"I'm
sure she'd say much the same about you," the Chairman said.

Zakharov
wondered. His ally was cagey. Had the Chairman been talking to the
Believers behind his back?

"No,"
Yang said. "The real threat is somewhat closer to hand. The vile,
degenerate weaklings of Morgan Industries have been spreading across
our own central continent, a plague worse than any mind worm boil.
Their broadcasts always seem to find new ways past my censors, and
we're constantly being annoyed by their inane propaganda."

"And
you want my help, to attack them?" Zakharov asked.

"No,
I have something more…limited in scope to propose to you," Yang
answered.

Zakharov
nodded. Warfare bored him at times, and it took so much attention
away from the really critical research. "You know we at University
have always been eager to aid you, Chairman, since the first landings
on Chiron. What conquest did you have in mind?"

"My
bases are reaching their population limits," Yang said, "and I
need to expand. We have detected valuable mineral resources there,
and the highlands would also prove useful, easier to defend when the
Morgan-Peacekeeper alliance decides to turn on us militarily."

"Ah,
I see," Zakharov said. Santiago.

Chairman
Yang nodded. "Unfortunately, Lieutenant Santiago and her puny
faction happens to occupy that section of the continent at the
moment, between us and our true enemy."

Your
true enemy, Zakharov thought. Mine is that misguided whore on the
southern continent. He knew Santiago had once been Yang's
subordinate- on the Unity, as well as back on Earth. But Santiago had
unexpectedly betrayed her superior officers in the last days before
landfall. Yang wasn't the sort to let that go. The Academician
scowled. He, too, had been betrayed by one of his subordinates on
Unity- the one-time xenobiologist, Lt. Commander Deirdre Skye.
Zakharov looked at Yang. The serene Chairman was staring back at him.
Had the Hive learned telepathy? Impossible. Everything the Hive
scientists knew had always come, at least indirectly, from Zakharov's
own research. At least, he hoped that was still true.

"Perhaps
we can put our treaty to the test," the Chairman said. "We both
get a buffer zone with the Peacekeepers. I get Santiago and her
minerals, and you get your old underling, and her databanks. I'm
sure there should be something there of interest to you. Skye was,
after all, a scientist like yourself."

"Not
like myself," Zakharov snapped, but Yang only nodded, like he'd
been expecting just such an outburst. "Nothing like myself."

"Still,"
Yang said, "I daresay the Gaian's research into Centauri ecology
would be of interest to one such as yourself."

"Purely
academic," Zakharov said.

"Of
course." The Chairman's eyes glittered. Purely academic.

"As
much as I'd like to help you, old friend," Zharkov continued,
"I'm not sure how much help I can really be to you in this
endeavor. I have few bases, mostly here along the coast, and I
certainly don't have the armies you'd need. Our maps indicate
Santiago has…" The Academician closed his eyes, briefly,
consulting the mental database in his hyper-organized cortex, calling
up the latest map. "She has at least nine bases." He tapped the
table, and exactly nine white squares appeared in Spartan territory.
Zakharov shook his head dubiously. "Perhaps I could help you
conquer the Spartans, but then I'd have nothing left to use against
the Gaians."

"Manpower
I am quite willing to provide," the Chairman said. He hated wasting
good workers by turning them into soldiers, but Yang had decided the
realignment of drones would be necessary long before visiting
Research Central. His cloning vats were now operating at full
capacity, and had been for some time. He was able to generate the
required resources- enough to conquer the Spartans, he was sure, as
well as hold the land against any reprisals from the Peacekeepers. He
would even, perhaps, loan a battlegroup or two to help Zakharov in
his own efforts to subjugate the Gaians, once the Spartans were
pacified. And, his most classified projections had determined the
Human Hive could execute the plan with ninety-eight percent certainty
and still maintain a sizeable reserve for homeland defense- should an
unforeseen enemy suddenly decide to strike.

Yang
knew full well, or thought he did, the extent of University's
defenses- pitifully weak by Hive standards, especially since
Zakharov's faction built everything above ground. The University
faction was such a small threat to him that as long as their alliance
continued to be mutually beneficial, neither he nor Zakharov need
worry about treachery for quite a few cycles yet.

"I
don't need manpower," Chairman Yang continued. "But I would
like my men to have the most advanced equipment available."

Predictably,
Zakharov was not about to hand over his most advanced technology. The
exchanges between Hive and University in the past had never been
even- Zakharov always kept the best for himself. Chairman Yang was
never quite sure what new tricks his ally might have in his labs, to
defend his bases. The Hive's Politburo had run all the possible
Spartan and Gaian scenarios, and the biggest remaining unknown was
his neighbor and ally, Zakharov. Seeing a few of the University's
best troops in action would be very interesting.

"I
have a better idea, Chairman," Zakharov said. "I will field a
limited number of my new Chaos Shock Troops and place them under your
direct control. These new units will be best employed weakening up
the Spartan bunkers so that your men can go in and make the final
assault."

"That
will be satisfactory." Chairman Yang smiled. "If all goes
according to plan, New Liberty will fall to our forces in twenty-one
months."

Zhakarov
glanced at Dr. Filoh, who consulted the quaint, old-fashioned-looking
LCD clipboard he always carried for sentimental reasons, rather than
the more modern implants. "Actually, Chairman," Filoh said, "our
estimates are twenty point five."

Yang
smiled again. "I stand corrected," he said graciously. But
inside, the Chairman felt a flash of anger. How had they known? I
must remember not to underestimate Zakharov, or how much he knows,
Yang thought to himself.

Academician
Zakharov leaned forward, setting down his empty glass. "A two-front
war would be unwise for both of us," he said, as if it had just
occurred to him. Perhaps there was a double meaning to his words.
"So," Zakharov said, "I am willing as you propose to tackle the
Gaians second- only after we have defeated the Spartans."

Zakharov
leaned back in his chair. "There are multiple inflection points in
the projection space, as I'm sure your own planners have told you.
Plus, to attack the Gaians will require a shipborne force- a thing
which neither of us has. While developing naval prototypes will take
away some of my engineers from other more critical tasks, I will
nevertheless put some thought to it, as soon as the campaign against
the Spartans is underway."

"As
will I, Academician," Yang agreed. "It would be only prudent. We
will want to surprise the Gaians almost immediately, once the
Spartans have been dealt with."

"That
should wake them up in U.N. Headquarters, if nothing else."

"Precisely.
It will send them a message, but it will be too late. Unlike
Santiago, Deirdre is a pacifist. She is likely to call on the other
factions for military aid, and we don't want to give Morgan or Lal
the chance to go on a war footing before we're ready."

"However
unlikely," Zakharov said, leaning forward again. "The more I
think about it, the less likely I think that scenario becomes. The
Gaians have been notoriously reclusive lately, and I just can't see
Deirdre Skye asking Morgan for help. She hates him more than she
hates you or I."

"Let
us hope that is the case," Yang said. "Still, before she realizes
it, she will be in your hands, to face the penalty for her disloyalty
on the Unity."

Over
a century had passed since the calamitous last days of the Unity,
when so much had gone wrong, and complete tragedy had been so
narrowly averted. But, thanks to the longevity supplements and
clinical treatments, most of the key players in that debacle were
still alive. Many nights, Yang had secretly dreamt of getting revenge
on the treacherous Lieutenant Corazon Santiago. Soon, he would get
what he wanted most. The leader of the rebel Spartans would make a
superb contribution to the clone vats of the Human Hive.

With
an imperceptible flick of an eyelid, Academician Zakharov was able to
call up an archived image, projected onto the translucent green inner
surface of his dataspecs. A picture of Deirdre Skye from long ago,
with dark hair, wearing a crisp, new pale blue science officer
uniform. Still as stunningly attractive and intelligent in her own
way as she had been on those fateful last days. She had betrayed him.
He had been the Chief Science Officer, and she had been the head
botanist and xenobiologist on his staff. But her insane, romantic
ideas about Chiron had overcome her reason. If only she had remained
loyal, she might be the Dean, instead of Dr. Filoh.

Yang
was right about one thing, Zakharov thought. Deirdre's research
into Centauri Ecology DID fascinate him. It was one area his own
scientist put little effort towards. Who knew what University might
learn, once her xenobiological data was incorporated into his network
nodes? Soon, her Gaian faction would be wiped out. She'd be brought
back to the Center, publicly stripped of her former rank- and of
everything else. Zakharov's pulse quickened. The scientist couldn't
decide what part of Lieutenant Commander Deirdre Skye would be more
enjoyable- her body, or her mind. Perhaps if his newest research came
to fruition, he wouldn't have to make that choice- he could have
both.

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